Bears Bite
by rikkucheerio
Summary: GorenOther Things piled up, IAB broke him. He's turned to a coping mechanism he's started using with increasing frequency lately. Can Andy fix him? M for language.
1. The Fight

_A/N: So, this is like my other pieces, completely unrelated to anything. Andy's half of this is courtesy of the wonderful LizzieB. If you like this, are intrigued by what's going on, pop on over to LiveJournal and look me up (I'm under the same name) and I'll show you the wonder that is our game. Anna Morasca, Ada-Marie Reinhardt, Aria Dalton-Hoffman, Vlad Hoffman, LT Mikala, Joe Magliocco and Kate Wells all belong to their rightful RPG players._

Taking a deep breath Andy knocked on Bobby's door. IAB's appearance at Anna's performance the night before had sent everyone to the edge. Nothing like a visit from the rat squad to ruin a good night.

Bobby glared at the door for a moment, then turned back to his mostly empty bottle of whiskey and filled his shot glass again. He wasn't about to go answer it. If they didn't leave, he was prepared to fight to the death in order to preserve his solitude.

Andy shook her head and then used the key she'd gotten from Ada to open the door. She stepped inside and closed it behind her.

"I should have known it was you," he said, turning to look at her.

"Probably. Judging by the level in that bottle, you've had about as good a day as I have."

"It was a fucking party." He looked away again. "Go away, Andy."

"You think that'll work with me?" She shook her head. "No."

He picked up the shot glass and knocked back the amber liquid, no longer noticing how bad the stuff was. He was no loner noticing anything, except how ridiculously drunk he was and that the hurt still hadn't been numbed. He snorted, "You don't know when to take a hint, do you?"

"Not really. Thick skull. Comes in handy when running into walls."

He got up, wobbled a little, then staggered over to her, still clutching the empty shot glass. Standing in front of her, he dropped his voice to a low growl. "Leave."

She looked him in the eyes. "No."

"Fine. Do what you want. I don't fucking care."

"You know, I almost turned myself over to IAB today."

"Oh really? You should have. That'd make my job so much easier!" The sarcasm in his voice was thick and dark. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to do anything to get her to leave.

"Yes, it would have. I could have saved everyone so much damn trouble. Anna's suspended. Aria's freaking out on me because Mikala's threatening Vlad and bribing her. I've got Magliocco trying to cop a feel every time I deal with him, three unsolved rapes and I can make that all go away by saying I'm dirty one. Hell, my uncle makes me look guilty. Would that have made you feel better? Would you be sober right now if I had done that?"

He snorted, shaking his head with a slightly sadistic smile. "Nothing can make me feel better right now. You have no fucking clue."

"Then tell me. Give me one. Because either way, I'm staying. I'll either argue it out of you, or you can tell me because you know me and you know I will."

Snarling, he said, "Okay, you want to know what happened? Let's start with last night, shall we?" He leaned down so he was eye level with her. "Are you at all familiar with Nicole Wallace?

"I can't say that I am."

"Oh, good! I get to tell you everything then!" He straightened up, swaying slightly as the room spun around him. "She's this truly _fantastic_ woman. Loves to get under my skin. She has quite a repertoire of...of...remarks. Her favorite ones often have to deal with my mother. Oh, and then there are the ones that touch on Alex."

"Sounds like a bitch. "

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." He growled. "Let's see, what did she say last night? It was something about how my 'precious Alex' left me with Kate, a partner whom I barely talk to."

"First off, anyone calling Alex precious has a death wish. Second, you're smarter than this, Bobby. She wanted to play you, and she succeeded."

His voice had risen and he was nearly shouting at her. "Don't you think I know that? She pushes my buttons and thrives off of hurting me."

She matched him for volume. "But you know what? You've got someone to make that better now! You've got someone to heal you if you'd just open your goddamn eyes. I'm right here!"

"I don't want you here right now!"

"Too damn bad, because even now, I want to be here. So come on, Bobby, give me everything you've got because I'll take it and keep coming back for more."

"Do you know what I did today? Huh?" He turned around and threw the shot glass at the wall, watching it shatter into little bits. Turning around, he shouted at her. "I _agreed_ to work for Mikala! I'm going to _help_ bring down Deakins!"

She didn't miss a beat and shouted right back, "And you think that matters to me? I turned in my _fiancé_, Bobby. You're a pot calling the kettle black."

He dropped his voice back down to a growl, trying to get as much malice as he could into his words. "I'm not you."

He turned around and walked away, sitting on the couch. Propping his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. Andy sighed and sat down next to Bobby.

"You're not me, but I never thought I was the type to turn either. IAB is big, bad and scary as hell and it messes with everyone's head. But, working for them isn't the end of the world."

He didn't look at her. "I hate myself."

"I spent years hating myself. There are times when I still hate myself. I've worked myself to death to try and make it stop. It'll never go away. You learn to live with it. You find... something... someone that makes it easier to carry."

"I'll let you know when I find something that can do that."

"Can you make sure it's not something so damaging to your liver?"

Closing his eyes, he was silent for a while.

Andy hesitated a second and then laid her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry you were put in this situation, Bobby."

He shook his head, mumbling, "I should have said no."

"Well, you can't go back and change the past. The only thing you can do is work with what you've got. You've got an in to the information we've had to steal and guess at. You can tell us just exactly what Mikala's got and what he's thinking."

"Yeah."

"You have an in, Bobby. An in I can't take because Magliocco's mole might recognize me. You wanted something to do in this, and now you've got a chance. You're smart and you can play this to your advantage."

He simply nodded slowly, finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

She hesitated again and laid a hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

"I believe in you Bobby."

He choked back a sob and pulled her into a hug, mumbling into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She hugged him back. "It's okay. I'm still here. I won't go." He clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder. She whispered, blinking back her own tears, "I love you, Bobby. I promise. I won't run, even when you push me. I won't. I love you."

"I'm so sorry, Andy."

"It's all right, Bobby. I forgive you. Always."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's get some coffee into you, huh?"

He nodded and pulled away from her. "Okay."

"Stay here, I'll take care of it." She kissed him lightly, then picked up the whiskey bottle and went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

He sat back and rested his head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. Putting his hands over his face, he muttered into them, "Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?"

"Yes, it's called Jim Beam." Andy came out of the kitchen with a dustpan and broom.

He picked his head up slightly, trying to fight the alcohol. "Andy, I'm sorry," he said sadly, watching her clean up the broken glass.

"Stop apologizing or the truck that'll hit you will be called Andy Viviano."

He smiled a little. "Okay."

Andy cleaned everything up and threw the shards away. She got a damp washcloth and held it out to Bobby. "Here, it'll help."

He took it from her and held onto it for a moment, looking up at her. "I love you."

She smiled gently at him. "And that's why I wouldn't leave."

He let his head fall against the couch again and covered his eyes and forehead with the washcloth. "I'm going to stay here for the rest of the night if that's okay with you."

She chuckled, "Lie down, stretch out and I'll get you a blanket or two. Along with some coffee."

He smiled and did what she said, but with a slight groan as the room spun faster.

"And while you're saving me from myself, could you get the room to stop spinning?"

"Maybe we should lay you out in the bathroom, just in case. And give you club soda instead of coffee. I don't trust your stomach."

"As long as I stop moving, I'll be fine."

"Alright then, stay there." Andy went into the kitchen and got him some coffee. She came back out and sat down carefully on the edge of the couch next to him. "Here you go, handsome."

Propping himself up with his shoulders on the armrest, he pulled the washcloth off his face and took the mug from her. Resting his head against her leg, he closed his eyes.

"Thanks."

She gently ran a hand over his head. "You're welcome."

He reached up and took her right hand in his, running his thumb over her ring. The ring he'd given her for Valentine's Day this year. It was a promise to never let go and in the coming months, it was going to mean so much to them. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her. She smiled back and laced their fingers together. He sipped the coffee.

"Are you staying here tonight?"

"Was your head spinning too much for you when I said I wasn't leaving?" Andy asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes?"

She chuckled, "I want to stay."

"You can have my bed."

"I was going to take it anyway."

"Good," he said, nodding slowly.

She kissed his forehead. "I'm going to go get you some blankets and tuck you in for the night."

"Okay."

Andy got up and got the blankets. She spread them over him and tucked him in. She then went and got a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water and set it on the coffee table.

"For tomorrow."

He reached out a hand for her. "Hey you, c'mere."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but took his hand and stood next to the couch.

"Yes?"

He kissed her hand. "I love you."

"Love you too, handsome. Now, get some sleep, you're going to feel like Hell tomorrow."

"Yeah, I am. Good night, love." He draped an arm over his eyes.

She watched him for a moment before leaning down and kissing the top of his head. "Night, handsome." She left him on the couch and crawled into bed.


	2. Healing

_Untangling himself from the blankets, Bobby sat on the edge of the bed and cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand. 4am. A time he was intimately familiar with. He scrubbed his hands over his face and stood up, pulling his NYPD hoodie from a nearby chair. Thankfully, the vertigo had finally subsided. All that was left was the aversion to anything remotely edible and the feeling of having been hit by a bus. A bus doing 80 on I-95. It had been the hangover from hell, but he'd made it through to the other side. With a sad smile, he glanced back at the bed, to Monet curled up on his pillow, snoring softly and to Andy, sound asleep with her fingers in the tiny kittens fur.___

_He wandered out to the living room and grabbed one of the blankets from the couch. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he moved over to the window and leaned against the wall. His eyes roamed over the dark room, finally coming to rest on a ding in the wall across from him. He sighed, tightening the blanket around his shoulders, resting his head on the window frame. More broken promises. New Year's promises made to others, to himself. Broken. Shattered like the shot glass that had put the dent in the wall. The glass he had thrown.___

_This weekend had slipped rapidly out of control, reaching its zenith Friday night. Thursday's...event was only the catalyst, the earthquake that started the tsunami. The brightly colored lights blinked happily outside the window. Some were signs, others were taxis. Other lives just on the opposite side of the glass. His breath was fogging the corner of the window and he reached up, drawing a smiley face in the condensation.___

_He felt like he was caught in the receding wave, getting tossed upside down, over and over, raked across the sea floor. Like a rag doll in a washing machine. He didn't know which way was up, which was down. The line between right and wrong had been drawn in the sand and he no long knew which side he stood on.___

_He stared at the smiley face on the window. It was mocking him, laughing at him. Pulling his hand into his sweatshirt sleeve, he wiped the condensation from the window, taking the taunting smiley with it. Maybe he should just change his name to Aldrich and move out of the country.___

_Running away always seemed like a good answer for life's little speed bumps. He couldn't. Wouldn't. Not now, not ever again. He'd made one promise that he'd rather be killed than break. Never let go.___

_Turning around, he dropped the blanket on the couch and went into the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove, he stared at the cabinet above it. He opened it and pulled down the mostly empty bottle of Jim Beam. He took the lid off, the scent of the liquid hitting him in the face. Just the smell was enough to make his stomach do back flips.___

_"Here's to lessons learned," he said softly into the darkness, "and to forgiveness." He turned the bottle upside down over the sink, watching as it ran down the drain. The bottle of Jack was next, then the Southern Comfort. Satisfied, he went back to the bedroom. He pulled the sweatshirt off and crawled into bed. Monet meowed, got up, walked a circle and settled back down against his shoulder. Looked over at the nightstand, Bobby glanced at the clock one last time.___

_5:30 am._


End file.
